


Never Too Late

by rebelwriter6561



Series: Borderline [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Fake AH Crew, Hurt/Comfort, Is it canon diversion if it's my own canon?, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Mute Vagabond, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, borderline au, suicidal idealization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:43:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: Canon divergence of Borderline where the Vagabond left Ray behind in the apartment.
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Ray Narvaez Jr.
Series: Borderline [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1162307
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> It's my fanfiction and I'll write an AU of it if I want to.
> 
> The idea of Ryan leaving Ray behind popped up while I was writing Part 1, then again while I was writing Bits, and then my beta fully encouraged it into existence. 
> 
> Heed The Tags. It goes dark. It doesn't go _there_ but it does drive by _there_ so proceed accordingly.

The laptop was gone.

Ray sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the space the computer had always been. The back of his neck was cold under his worn-down hoodie. The laptop was gone, and so were the cords. He swallowed, feeling the motion rock through his body. It was like waking up and finding your whole damn leg missing. It wasn't right.

When had he last seen the Vagabond? Five days? A week? He didn't know, he'd just thought it was a long job and didn't bother thinking…

Ray forced himself to his feet, even though it hurt, even though every instinct said to go back to bed. Maybe if he didn't look, he wouldn't know‒ 

Swaying, he stumbled down the hall, not even wanting to think about what he was doing. The living space next to the kitchen was empty, not just of the Vagabond but of his stuff, the stack of clothes and guns and ammo and‒

The black bag by the door was gone.

The ground felt like it dropped out from beneath him. Ray slid to the floor, just like he had when the Vagabond had come back and found him there. Numb, and scared, totally out of his mind and unsure of what to do.

He wasn't coming back. Ray couldn't breathe past the big black hole that had opened in his chest, couldn't think beyond what wasn't in front of him. They were gone. He was gone. It was all gone. And he wasn't coming back.

Pressing his arm to his mouth, Ray tried to muffle the sounds coming from his throat. It wasn't working, he couldn't breathe but he could still feel, he felt worse than anything and why? Why was he even surprised. Of course the Vagabond had left him. He was useless, he was nothing, the Vagabond was probably tired of him lying around doing nothing so he left, finally, and the only real surprise was that it had taken so long.

He was gone, and all that was left was his useless ass. Just like Ray always knew it would be. 

Why did he ever think otherwise?

~*~

Time passed. Days, weeks, months, who fucking knew. The food in the fridge went bad. Ray ordered a pizza, ate a slice and a half and left the rest on the counter. His phone battery slowly trickled down the empty, and he didn't get up to charge it. He didn't leave the bed until he had to, and returned to it immediately when he was done. What was the point? There wasn't anything out there for him.

The empty side of the bed was like an aching black hole. He couldn't fill it, couldn't sleep next to it. He wanted to get away from it, but how could he? What difference would that make?

The silent humming of the room seemed much more suffocating. The random thumps and other noises from outside the apartment seemed louder, like his ears were straining for something other than the monotonous air conditioning. He was cold, so cold, but he couldn't get up and turn it off. Then the silence would really be too much.

The Vagabond hadn't left much. Ray found one of his shirts in his drawer, put it on because why not? It wasn't like the Vagabond would come back and take it. Stray hair ties turned up in odd places, some with long blonde hairs twisted around the elastic. Ray added each one he found to his wrist, even when they were too small to be comfortable. His brands of soap in the shower stall, the cleaning supplies he bought under the sink, and in a drawer, next to Ray's toothbrush, a straight razor. 

Because of course that's how the Vagabond would shave.

Ray stared at the razor, rather than his reflection in the mirror. He didn't want to look at what he was. His thoughts were swimming through the sludge in his head, slow and barely there, not able to focus on anything but the razor. It looked almost harmless, the reflections in the silver blade blurry and out of focus. But cold. His fingers were numb against the cold metal. The metal wasn't soft, even though it looked like it should be.

The Vagabond had left his razor. On purpose? Was the message not clear enough?

Ray ran his fingernail along the edge, not even feeling it when the blade slipped against the meat of his thumb. It didn't hurt. It wouldn't hurt that much.

Right?

What would it feel like, not feeling anything anymore? The metal was smooth against his skin, rubbing softly. What was it like never feeling like this? Would he finally stop thinking? Would it be quiet in his head the way it never was, the way he was almost scared to admit he wanted? What was it like to not feel worried or afraid or sad or tense or anything ever again?

Would the Vagabond even think about him?

Would he come back, one day, to find nothing? Would he feel regret over the time wasted on him, or relief that Ray wasn't around anymore? Would he care at all?

He had to. The ringing of metal against the tile was the only reason Ray knew he had dropped the razor. Something was burning in his chest, growing stronger with every beat of his heart. His brain felt like it had suddenly lurched into motion, so fast he felt like he had whiplash. The Vagabond had done this to him, he was the reason Ray started feeling things. And then he left. He had left and made him feel like shit again. 

_How fucking dare he_?

Ray moved, toes cold until he got to the mostly clean carpet of his room. The sniper case he yanked from under the bed was a familiar weight that immediately grounded him. The Vagabond had fucked off. Fine, that was his decision, but he didn't get to leave Ray to die alone. Ray had been expecting to be killed by the Vagabond for months, ever since he first moved in. The least he could do was follow up with that.

~*~

The Vagabond could hide from the cops, from every criminal gang on the coasts and across the country, but not from Ray's depressed determined ass.

They'd lived together for months, after all. Ray knew who he'd worked for, who he avoided, and who he was likely to work with again. So that’s where Ray started. Some light stalking, monitoring the rise and fall of criminal politics, identifying weak points. When he took his first shot, shooting down the leader of the most notorious mob group, he knew exactly what kind of reaction it would spark. 

The easiest way to get the Vagabond to kill him was to do something that warranted being killed by him.

It was so easy to push everything into chaos. So easy to keep picking off the big players, sending their underlings scrambling. From rooftops and alleyways and other hidden places he could squeeze into. Suddenly they were all feeling what he felt‒ unsafe and unsure about what was happening. Under the heavy layer of nothing covering him, Ray felt something like satisfaction about that.

Even though his nights were spent lurking on the rooftops, Ray still stayed in the apartment. He'd had enough fun sleeping in the streets when he was younger‒ he didn't see the need to when he had a mostly acceptable bed and roof over his head. He never slept, but waited.

He didn't have much access to the criminal gossip channels, but he knew enough to know they were hunting him. They'd want him dead. They'd do anything to take him out.

Like hire a particularly merciless mercenary to do the job.

~*~

“You’re the Ghost, aren’t you?” Ray looked up to meet his supplier’s eye, her worried look making no difference to him. “The sniper, right?”

“What gave it away, the sniper shells?” Ray asked, barely sarcastically. He continued to load the boxes into his backpack. He'd used up a lot, over the last few weeks. And it wasn't like he was being paid anything for what he was doing, but he had enough for now. And at least there was a normally super-discreet supplier right in the city.

“Okay, look, dude.” Red Cat was halfway over her counter, still staring really intensely. “I’m kinda breaking my own rules here, but I gotta warn you, alright? You’re, like, pissing everybody in this city off. Like seriously." 

She sounded like this should be something he should be concerned about. Ray hmm-ed in acknowledgment. It didn't particularly matter‒ that was the whole fucking point.

"Pretty much everyone who comes in here is wanting your head on a plate. They say they’re calling in the big guns to come after you."

Bingo. That's what he wanted to hear. Ray finally looked back up at her. "Like which big guns?"

"Uh." Cat suddenly looked worried. Maybe because of the sudden intense look he was giving her. “I don’t know if I should tell you‒”

“You’ve already broken your own ‘rules’,” Ray airquoted at her. “Just tell me.” He already knew the answer, or at least hoped he knew.

“Like, all of them, pretty much.” Cat shrugged her shoulders, sounding resigned. “Last I heard the big gangs are in a bidding war over the Vagabond right now. If your plan is to get your ass killed, I feel like he’s gonna get the job done.”

Good. “Well, if he comes in here, go ahead and tell him it’s me.” Ray pulled his bag off the counter and slung it over his shoulder. Cat stared at him in shock, but he talked over her. “Tell him he’ll find me where he left me.”

“You’re crazy,” Cat told him, shaking her head, looking so sad for some reason. “You're nuts. You _want_ him coming after you?”

“Yeah. That’s the whole point.” Ray turned to leave. “He owes me.”

~*~

Ray wasn't sleeping when he heard the apartment door open. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes as someone came down the hall towards him. The steps were heavy and familiar, but the person otherwise made no noise. Instead of feeling afraid, Ray felt something loosening in his chest. Finally. He was back and it was almost fucking over.

He didn't tense when he sensed the figure had reached the side of his bed. He didn't flinch when he felt fingers in his hair, running through the greasy strands softly. He wanted them to tighten, to drag him out from the safety of the blankets into the cold room where he could get his throat slit‒

The bed shifted when the figure crawled over him, to the other side of the bed. Their hands weren't in his hair‒ they were across his side, curling under his chest, pulling him in against the heavy weight. Holding him so close it was hard to breathe. 

It was really fucking hard to breathe. Ray wanted to struggle, pull back and get it over with, but the hand on his chest was tangled in his hoodie, grabbing his fingers when he reached up to pull it away, holding him together when he felt like he was going to fall apart. He felt lips next to his ear, moving silently, like the person behind him was trying to say something.

Ray finally gave up, relaxing back in the arms. So it wasn't gonna happen tonight. It would happen, though, and there was no point trying to rush it. He wasn't going anywhere. 

~*~

Ray woke up in the Vagabond's arms. It was unmistakably him. Ray knew how his grip felt, and no one else would be clinging so hard even in their sleep. Their fingers were still wound together, and the Vagabond's leg was firmly twined between his. Like he was trying every trick he knew to keep Ray from getting away in his sleep.

He didn't try. Ray stared into space, wondering when the Vagabond would wake up and finish him off. Was this his last good thing before he bit it? It was good, it was really _really_ good, being back in his arms. It wasn't like he ever forgot how good, but it was making the ache go away, made him realize just how much he missed it. After drowning for so long, he felt like he was finally floating. 

The fingers wound tight with his flexed, like they were trying to shake him off. Ray clung on, feeling some tense anticipation crawl into his stomach. It was finally happening.

Except his hand was being pulled back, and he could feel the Vagabond's lips against his fingers, smiling for some reason. Okay. Ray found himself smiling too, especially when the Vagabond maneuvered his hand so he could rub that smile against his palm. The Vagabond sighed, his breath tickling against his skin. Who knew that could feel so good?

Despite himself, Ray couldn't help relaxing in his grip again, even though he knew his end was imminent. He'd take this last bit of good over some drawn-out torture any day.

Eventually though, the Vagabond freed his hand, reaching across him to the phone sitting next to Ray's dead one. Ray watched him unlock it, open a notepad app, and type.

**I'm sorry I left you** He deleted most of the words and added one more. **I'm so sorry**

Huh. Ray opened his mouth to say something off-hand, something about it not being a big deal, but it was. It was a big deal. Because the Vagabond had his face buried in the back of his neck and he was squeezing so damn hard. He meant what he'd typed. 

"So why did you?" Ray asked. He felt the tiniest shift from the Vagabond, pulling his face away to type an answer.

**I was scared**

"Scared of what?" Ray pushed. Why not? If the Vagabond got pissed he could just kill him. But if he didn't, then…then he wanted to know why.

**scared of losing you**

Ray's laugh hurt. " _You_ left," he pointed out. 

**Because I don't deserve you**

Ray didn't have an answer for that. What in the fresh hell did that mean? Ray wasn't special, he wasn't worth anyone's attention, and that wasn't just his shitty brain talking. That was facts. 

But the Vagabond was still curled up around him, no guns or knives or hands around his throat. Holding him as if he wanted to just as much as Ray wanted to be held.

**Being with you felt too good. I was scared about how I felt and tried to hide it. I felt like I was going to ruin everything because that's who I am. And I thought staying away would be better.**

Ray snorted, hard. "It wasn't better," he spat out bitterly. "I mean, it got me out of the apartment eventually, but I can't say that's a good thing."

Oddly enough, he felt the Vagabond smile against his neck, his arms tighten a little. Okay, from a certain standpoint, what he'd done was pretty freaking cool. Especially if the Vagabond thought so.

"I crashed, man," Ray admitted, voice breaking a little. "You thought I was bad before, I was… I was a fucking mess." He sighed. "Still couldn't off myself though. Thought I could make you come back and do it. You'd deserve it for running off on me."

The Vagabond nodded. The hand resting on his middle, somehow under his hoodie, was rubbing soft circles against his shirt. 

"If you leave again you're gonna have to finish the job," Ray told him. "Or I'm coming after your ass again."

The hand stopped moving. **What if I stay?**

"Then I'll make you miserable." Ray rolled over, staying in his arms, finally looking him in the eye. The Vagabond had that frown on his face, like he was trying to figure him out. "I'm still gonna be like this and sometimes I won't be able to get out of bed and you'll have to stick around and take care of me." The Vagabond didn't look like he had a problem with that. He had a soft smile growing on his face, a soft look in his eyes. Shit. "You'll have to deal with my stupid ass who went and pissed off so many people. Like you don't even know." He really had no idea. "You'd be better off killing me."

The Vagabond made a considering noise before putting down his phone and leaning into his space. Ray didn't even have a chance to react before the Vagabond's lips were against his, so soft, like everything else. Like nothing else even mattered.

Ray's breath hitched when he pulled away. The Vagabond was still smiling, and that hurt to look at. He shoved his face into the Vagabond's chest, feeling him laugh. “I’m supposed to be mad at you,” Ray mumbled into his chest. The Vagabond laughed again, sounding like it hurt, and started stroking his hair. Ray felt empty, but not like before. It really felt like everything bad in his chest was gone, at least for now. Empty and hollow never felt so good.

They stayed there for so long Ray felt like falling asleep again. He also felt like exploring just what that kiss had meant, but that could happen later, when he felt like he wouldn't spontaneously combust just thinking about it. He wasn't back to normal, or whatever the fuck normal was, but the Vagabond was back, just like he wanted, and things didn't feel so terrible anymore.

Although, things were still pretty shitty. “You still gotta do the job, you know,” Ray reminded him. "All those gangs'll be pissed if you don't kill me."

The Vagabond snorted as he picked up his phone again. **They're gonna be a lot more pissed when they find out we're together**

Back up. Ray was still getting over his recent expected death, and the Vagabond was talking about going public. Ray felt like pulling away and asking what the fuck _that_ meant, but he decided against it. Whatever happened would happen, and as long as the Vagabond stuck around, they'd be okay.

After all, it wasn't like anything worse could happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Does this merge back into Borderline "canon"? Are there other consequences from this divergence? Will I write more Borderline stuff because this is what my life has become?


End file.
